I Am A Magnet For Happy Couples And Every Day Is a Living Hell

I'm A Magnet For Happy Couples

My most-liked Instagram is a video of me on St. Patrick’s Day. No, I’m not drunk and/or embarrassing myself in the public eye—though that’s the case more often than not. Instead, the main focus is a happy couple in matching camel coats giving each other butterfly kisses directly behind me.

Usually I’d just roll my eyes and finish whatever alcoholic beverage was in arm’s reach, but that was a special night because they ended up leaning on my shoulder as they made out for the next half hour. I did my best to shift around in my seat, giving off the best “Piss off” vibe I could muster, when I realized that this wasn’t the first time this sort of thing happened to me.

Obviously everyone encounters a drunk, horny couple sucking face at the bar, but mine is a special case. You see, happy couples like the aforementioned seem to follow me everywhere. I feel like the dating world’s equivalent of UFO-enthusiasts, seeing couples everywhere I look. But before you go and tell me I’m being paranoid and it’s all because I’m alone and notice them more, let me present you with these true stories.

The day is Tuesday, August 2nd. I’ve been occupying a seat in a coffee shop in Midtown East. The lounge area is practically empty, save for me and a middle-aged woman watching Telenovela at full-volume.

Enter, Couple A. They’re both obvious young professionals with briefcases and black coffees in hand. Instead of sitting in any of the available couches, they choose to park themselves in the stools two feet in front of me. Nothing was truly upsetting about this scene until they interlaced their fingers, stared longingly into each other’s eyes, and started doing perhaps the most vomit-worthy activity I’ve ever endured: These people would kiss every time they completed a sentence.

Thankfully, I had headphones in and mind-numbing bass prevented me from hearing whatever greeting card shit they were spewing at each other, but the sight of it all was enough to induce immediate nausea. Finally, after about 20 minutes of this monstrous behavior, Couple A leaves me in peace. Or so I thought…

Enter, Couple B. Couple B was a tough situation to crack at first. It seemed as if Girlfriend B was just a business friend since Boyfriend B couldn’t look away from his phone. But then, the unthinkable happened: He suddenly reached over and put both of his hands on either side of Girlfriend B’s head, and they stayed like this for a solid 30 seconds while I looked on with horror.

How dare the universe put me through this hell twice in one day, let alone within the same hour? There were plenty of other couples existing peacefully in this coffee shop, but it’s the insufferable ones that choose to sit in the cursed stools mere inches from my body and my eyeballs.

I feel as if all nauseatingly happy couples have a special skill, much like a bat’s echolocation, that lets them feel around their area for the most stubbornly single person just to go annoy them. Now, I’m a big girl, folks. I’m single because I choose to be— a better reason than the fact that I make more bird noises and grunts than the typical twenty-something. I need you to understand that their happiness doesn’t make me sick because I don’t have it, but because PDA is perhaps my least favorite thing on this planet.

Hand-holding is sweaty and miserable, baby talk does to me what open-mouth chewing also does to me (that is, light my insides on fire), and I’d rather watch an unending video of ‘The Miracle of Life’ than talk about feelings.

If you’re a happy couple and you’re reading this, good for you. I’m glad you found a person that you can fart in front of and also take to weddings. But please, for the love of God, stop following me around.

Image via Shutterstock

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Voted Most Likely to Talk About Tacos in high school. Has unusual knack for fitting a wine glass in her mouth. Likes to think of herself as a Robin Scherbatsky/Khaleesi hybrid. Enjoys all forms of potato.

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